


Covering the Tracks.

by amorremanet



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-20
Updated: 2009-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A somewhat disappointing morning after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covering the Tracks.

Adrian wakes up knowing exactly where he is (some second-rate hotel room, valiantly attempting to pass itself off as quality) and who is in bed beside him (the dancer he picked up last night; a limber nineteen-year-old runaway from Hackensack, who bussed to New York and whose name will never matter in a history book). Wasting little time, Adrian leaves his dancer in the bed. He showers and prepares himself for the day. It's early yet, he should be able to get to the office before anyone else, and, once there, change into the extra suit he keeps for nights like these.

All the while, he's mentally rehearsing the story that he'll tell anyone who should find out about this. Given all the time and effort he's put into covering his tracks, the chances of this happening are minimal. Statistically, such an occurrence is almost negligible, but it still must be considered, just in case. _Just in case_.

Perhaps it's cold, but it is surely necessary. Silhouette was never his favorite member of the original Minutemen. He never looked up to Ursula Zandt, and, only seven when she died, he shed no tears over her and her lover's double murder. As he grew, though, she became more. Her story, spelled out plainly and in hushed, condemning terms by everyone but Hollis Mason, was his cautionary tale. Even here, in Manhattan, even now, after the Stonewall Riots, the Keene Act's passing, and the APA declaring that Adrian's way of being isn't actually a psychiatric disorder — even as he's started to enact his master plan for a better world, it isn't safe to be a homosexual and a masked adventurer.

So it goes: he went out after working hours with some of his associates, and, by some series of events, found something in his drink. He woke up in unfamiliar territory, not knowing where he was. He has money and lawyers enough to make this lie the truth.

As he adjusts yesterday's tie in the mirror, he sees a hand sneak around his shoulder, feels as the underfed younger man rubs against his back. "Hey, big daddy," the dancer purrs. "Leaving so soon?"

"I have work." There isn't any of his usual eloquence, or any of the pretty words with which he seduced this boy last night. Adrian has no times for anything more than the bare formalities right now. "My company doesn't run itself."

"I had an amazing time last night, I hope you did too. ...Will I see you again sometime?"

He's a romantic — insufferable, ultimately useless; the City should have eaten his optimism from the inside by now. Gingerly, as though touching a fairly noxious piece of trash, Adrian lifts the hand off of his chest and returns it to the boy's side. He turns and looks in the dancer's eyes.

"Listen to me, Jacob, and listen well, because I haven't any desire to repeat myself. Last night was what vernacular parlance refers to as a 'one-night stand.' I know full well that you are _acquainted_ with the concept. What it means for you here is that no, you will not _see me again sometime_ , and, if I may be frank: in terms of one-night stands, I've _had_ better."


End file.
